Splinter Cell : Double Agent
by mortpenguin
Summary: Having been discharged from the agency, superspy Sam Fisher returns to the field of espionage. But this time he has to infiltrate a terrorist organization based on US soil and destroy it from within, uncovering a deadly secret while doing so.
1. Prologue

_This is a restart of my Splinter Cell story. The initial version, Splinter Cell : The Fall has been scrapped but I have retained the original storyline. Splinter Cell Double Agent is a fan fiction based on the new segment of the Splinter Cell saga, and was intended for a 'mission' on Spyring, a fansite for SCDA. Thank you to those who have read my earlier story and reviewed it. I appreciate your comments. Please be reminded that the storyline is original and loosely-based on the actual plot, so do not base the story on the game or vice versa. Now here's presenting the prologue._

The pistol was placed in his palm. For once, he felt the cold metal of the grip.

"Go on. Do it." The raspy voice reminded him.

Sam looked straight ahead, staring into the two black eyes of the man he had known for ten years. A man who had given him this sickening job which most of the time screwed his life, but in the end was still his best friend.

The man said nothing as he stared down the barrel of the .45, but his eyes said it all.

"Do it, Sam. That's your job."

Emile was getting impatient. "Hurry up! What are you waiting for? You've been through this for six times now. What's wrong this time?"

Moss cut in. "I'm telling you boss. He's been lying ever since he joined us."

"Shut up! Don't tell me your records are clean as well. Jamie's telling me you've been transferring money to your foreign accounts."

"That's bullshit!" the muscular man clenched his gloved fists and threatened Washington, "You fucking specky, don't make me break your guts."

"Enough!" Emile roared. Everyone was taken aback because the old man seldom raised his voice. "When this shit's done, I want both of you in my office."

"Now Fisher, can you please don't keep us waiting."

He had killed six civilians, and he pulled the trigger on each and every one of them without hesitation. But this time it was totally different. This man was part of his screwed life – he was the only person other than Grim who knew his true identity. And the only senior person in the NSA he could trust.

Now he was tied up to a chair waiting for a bullet to be lodged in his forehead.

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to do it, or else both of them would be dead.

"Kill him, and you still save thousands." He tried to convince himself.

"Don't do it, Sam!" another voice rang in his head. It was not his but more feminine.

"Grim?" Sam blurted out.

"What are you talking about, Fisher?" Everyone in the room was surprised to hear Sam mention an irrelevant word amidst the high tension.

"Sam, do not shoot Lambert. There is another way out of there." Third Echelon's technical advisor spoke via the implants in Sam's neck and ear.

Sam knew he could not reply – all eyes were onto him.

Just then, one of the JBA technicians came bursting into the room. "Emile, we're picking up encrypted signals entering the compound."

Emile's expression changed. "Isn't this facility secure?"

"Yes, but this is a new string of codes. It must have found a way to get past our firewall."

Moss certainly smelt trouble, for he immediately drew his pistol and aimed at Fisher. "Game's over, you bald jerk."

"Moss, put that gun down!" Emile ordered. The JBA boss was still confused by the sudden chain of events.

"Goddamn it Emile. He is one of them, can't you see? The NSA's talking to him right now!"

Sam felt a sudden rush of blood to his head. The stakes now were just as high as playing a game of cards with the Mafia with five aces in hand. His gun was still aimed at the Third Echelon boss but it began to tremble.

Emile glared at the new member of the JBA who had earned his trust since he joined the organization months ago. "Put the gun down, Moss" he repeated without looking away from Sam.

"Goddamn you, Emile!"

And the first shot was fired.


	2. Chapter 1

**Washington Rock State Park, New Jersey**

**1st Dec 2007, 1050hrs**

"I'm really sorry for you, Sam. Everyone at the agency feels the same as well." Lambert told the man sitting beside him on the bench.

"They know already?"

"Yeah. I messaged Grimm after the doctor's confirmation, and she told the rest of the team."

"Fuck the agency." Sam coldly replied.

"What do you mean by that? Look, it's no one's fault here. It was an accident, you couldn't have prevented it." Lambert tried to reassure his best friend of ten years. Having worked with the man for a decade, the director of Third Echelon was now finding difficulty in consoling a very devastated Sam Fisher.

"Couldn't have prevented?" Sam asked sarcastically. "If I hadn't been in Iceland trying so hard to keep myself fucking warm, I would have been back here in the fucking States driving Sarah home!" he slammed his fist onto the wooden bench, which startled his boss. A few seconds of silence ensued before Sam continued. "Sorry, I'm just too emotional now."

Lambert patted his back. "I understand. Things have been too hard on you…"

"No. You don't understand. I lost Regan twenty years ago. Now Sarah is gone. What is it like to lose two of your closest kin?"

Lambert could not answer. He was fifty-two, two years younger than Sam, and living with a much complete and happier family.

"You can't, can you?" Sam snickered and stared back into the sky. He thought he saw that familiar girlish smile above the treeline, but just as suddenly as it had appeared, the image vanished. He let the hot coffee moist his parched lips in the cold winter before spitting the drink out.

"Jeez, don't you ever get the brew right?" Sam asked as Lambert took another sip.

"They were having an offer at Starbucks." Lambert tried to let a little humour kick into the conversation but doubted it would liven things up. "Well now you have all the time you want to sip that old favourite Murphy's."

"What do you mean?" Sam managed to force a sip down his throat. Having a warm drink was necessary in such weather. He did not enjoy such privileges in Iceland a week ago.

"I'm giving you a break."

"Hmph. You always say that and two days after I've settled back into normal Jersey life you call me up again."

"I know. But this time it's for real. And it'll be a long one."

Sam pondered over the reply. Lambert's words did not sound quite right. He was expecting his boss to say something like "Get over it ASAP and get back to work soon" or "We still need your mind and soul here".

"How long?"

Lambert hesitated a little before replying. "I'm relieving you, Sam."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "What? You know I can't live without this job, Lambert. This is my life!"

"I know, but at your current state, the agency deems you psychologically unfit for duty. Even your body is beginning to degenerate. You won't survive much longer if I still put you out there."

"I refuse to leave! I am still fit! I can get over Sarah's death in a short time, but you must not remove my name from Third Echelon!" Sam was getting close to hysterical. It was as though it was the second worst news after his daughter's death.

Lambert put two firm hands on Sam's shoulders. "It's what's best for you now, Sam. And I wasn't the one who gave the order. Williams did."

"Who's Williams?"

"He's a new guy at Third Echelon. Taking up the role as Assistant Director, a newly-created position."

"But you are the boss!"

"Yes, but Williams had the backing of other senior staff. He looked through your case file and decided that you should be discharged. I thought it would benefit you too, that's why I seconded it."

"Damn…" Sam slumped back into the bench and sighed. After enjoying a career spiral up and even planning as a future permanent mentor for other Splinter Cell operatives, Sam had to now live with the fact that his plan were now worth as trash.

"So you expect me to live on my pathetic pension?"

"You could sell your TV for starters, you don't even watch the channels. But no, the NSA's giving you a retirement allowance, 'in recognition of your immense contribution to the agency and the country'." Lambert quoted an official government-registered letter as he passed Sam a Manila envelope.

"All the documents are inside. Discharge forms, psychologist's report, retirement allowance." Sam took one glance at the stack of forms and sighed again before closing the envelope.

"We'll keep in contact, and if there's anything that you need me to help you with. Call me, though returning to work is certainly out of question."

"Right… Thanks Lambert." Sam graciously accepted his boss's offer. He knew he was the only person he could depend on now.

"I'll see you around." Lambert picked up his Styrofoam cup and got up from the bench. He extended his hand to his old friend, which Sam shook hard. "Thanks for all that you've done."

"You could have said that last Christmas." Sam joked. Both men laughed and then it was time for Lambert to leave.

Sam continued sitting on the bench, staring into the open space. He sprinkled a handful of crumbs onto the floor and let the pigeons enjoy their treat, while he took another sip of the Starbucks coffee.

His watch's alarm beeped. The time was 11.45am.


	3. Chapter 2 Part One

_This is part one of Chapter Two. Next update will be two weeks later._**  
**

**Fisher's Residence**

**1215hrs**

Sam stared at the other man in his bathroom. He gave a snicker.

"You're too old Sam." He said.

"I'm not." Sam defiantly replied.

"Look at you. Hair's turning grey all over."

"So what…Argh." The ex-NSA agent let out a groan and massaged his back.

"See, now even your back's hurting. Time to have a good rest, Sarah wouldn't want to see you in a body bag."

"Sarah…" Sam sighed, remembering that his daughter and only closest kin was gone from his life forever. What a memory those 21 years would be. Sam cupped his forehead; the memories were hurting him, piercing his brain repeatedly like being shot upon by a full-automatic.

Sam looked back at the man and punched him in the face. "Damn it!" he shouted. He only realized that he had severely cracked his bathroom mirror six seconds after retracting his hand. Now the man on the other side was a blur, just like Sam's senses now.

"Shit," Sam muttered, knowing that he would have to replace the mirror. He splashed some cold water to rejuvenate his wrinkled face and walked back to the hall. His living room vividly reminded him of his child. There were photos of the duo placed neatly on the TV and shelves. On the walls were sixteen Father's Day cards done by Sarah, who had started drawing when she was just five. The cards accurately charted her growth from child to teen to young adult, as seen from her handwriting and language employed. Sam looked at the one dated 2005. "I can't believe that we're living this lifestyle for 18 years and still going strong! You know what does this show – you're the best dad I've ever had!"

Sarah was referring to her father's frequent long 'business trips' which kept him out of the house most of the time. Sam had never told her daughter about his real job because it could jeopardize his career and also his family's well-being if she accidentally let the cat out of the bag. Instead he lied to her that he was working as a manager for an IT firm, and his position required him to attend various conferences and exhibitions around the world. Sarah bought it, though she had once asked why her father had not brought any new gizmo back. That was when Sarah was eight. From then on, every time Fisher returned from a mission Lambert would hand him something to give his daughter, just to make the show credible.

Hanging above the couch was a framed certificate of Sarah's graduation from high school. Sam had wanted to go and support his daughter on that special occasion, but as luck would have it, Lambert posted him to a particular lighthouse in Peru, which sparked off what would be an exhilarating race to stop World War Three from breaking out in the Pacific. When Sam finally returned home, Sarah was utterly displeased with her father's failure to turn up for her graduation and sudden long absence. Even the new iBook which Sam had brought home would not put a smile to her face ( Lambert thought this time Sam would need a big present for Sarah ). So Sam wrote a lengthy and sincere letter apologizing to his daughter and promising that nothing like this would happen again. It was framed up too and hung just next to the certificate, much to the approval of Sarah.

Sam hated to be away from home. Being the only parent, he was constantly worried of Sarah's safety and pleaded Lambert to insert a 24-hour surveillance team to watch Sarah while she was under the care of their neighbour Mrs Rosemary. Lambert reluctantly agreed, but warned him that surveillance crew needed to sleep too. Now it seemed that Sam would need the crew to monitor him, just to make sure that he would not do anything stupid.

He flipped open the Yellow Pages and searched the category "Bathroom Accessories". Sam cursed himself for spending unnecessary money and dialed a number.

"Hi, you do replacements for bathroom mirrors?"


End file.
